Ruthie turned 21 today. So naturally, there was a party last night. Since Ruthie was involved, there was Franzia (yes, that's right it comes in a box. Even worse, there's a plastic bag inside that actually holds the wine. During our first year, Ruthie could only fit the plastic bag in her fridge, so she had a "bladder" of wine. Yes, that's gross).
You know it's going to be a good party when the alcohol supply is described as "Plenty of cheap beer, homemade wine punch for the ladies, maybe some tequila or vodka and mixers? Hmm, I guess I'll just scope out the store and get as much as I can." (Hi, mom). It really was a good party, too. I saw people I haven't seen in forever, mainly old Hendus. I found out I'm not the only person who's stopped going to ODE. About 1:00, some guy from the 68s claimed that he broke the party after standing on a chair with a guitar. No, I really don't know. I didn't stay that late and didn't drink that much (shut up), but I apparently have no alcohol tolerance anymore. I got home, watched about 15 minutes of Horsefeathers, and dragged myself to bed. I woke up about 10:15, when the girl who lives next door to me, for reasons known only to her and God, started blasting Lifeteen music. If you go to that website, check out the desktop icons (in the downloads section). The empty recycle bin is a person coming out of confession.
So yeah. Happy birthday, Ruthie.